I Enjoy Getting Flowers, Not Watching Them Die

Valentine's Day is hardly over (four days have passed) and the flowers that a man sent me are already starting to falter. I feel so sad for their drooping petals and falling leaves. They are so beautiful, a combination of white daisies with red perennials. I wonder if the beauty in them is more the gesture than the gift. It is a sweet and thoughtful thing. I pray that the flowers are not predicting the outcome of our relationship. Of course, of course. All flowers die. Though I have truly enjoyed having them around, seeing them each time I wake up and being reminded that I am thought of and remembered and loved. I hope to love back shamelessly, one day. I hope to use all of my energy creating a life I adore and cultivating groups of genuine and loving friends and family, which I already have but can never have enough of.

All my life when thinking of the flower and it's lifecycle, I always thought of the seed planted, the sprout emerging from black earth, reaching to the sky until petals unfurled. It is so abrupt for me now, to be on the opposite end of their lifecycle. It made me so frustrated at one point, one day I couldn't let go of the thought. Why do people give one's they love dying plants as a way to show they love them? Funerals, sure. But lovers? I thought too hard on the subject and then realized the plant's purpose in those final weeks before death. To bloom. To live. To live.

I feel like I often overlook the important things in my life because I am busy worrying about hypothetical situations that could cause me harm rather than living in the moment. I don't need to worry about the flowers dying. I need to give them fresh water and keep my cats from terrorizing them and enjoy them for as long as I am able to before they start to fade. Perhaps even then, I could press them and keep it in a book like my grandfather used to.

Love,

Court